Zoya walked over to Ruslan and Vasily and said some soft soothing words in English while she appeared to hug them, one after the other, in plain view of the firemen, but in truth she was fishing around for their mobile phones, both of which she pulled off of them.
Utkin just stood there in the dark, fuming.
Zoya stood and walked over to him and spoke softly in Russian. “Where’s your car?”
“Right there.” He pointed up to the corner, behind the building where the Audi sat with its back door open.
Zoya said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
But she was already heading to the car. “Away from here.”
A minute later the Audi raced through the nearly empty streets, heading north. Hundreds of yards behind them, Court followed along with his earpiece in his ear and his mobile phone broadcasting anything said inside the vehicle, though the sound wasn’t great and Court’s Russian was far from perfect.
He also had the screen of his mobile in his lap displaying an application that showed him the location of the other phone, a feature he’d taken pains to set up the day before, knowing that with this app the phone could be used as both a surveillance device and a tracking device.
The conversation in the Audi had involved a good bit of shouting, mostly from the man behind the wheel. Court could tell the man was driving because his voice was much closer to the microphone.
It was hard for Court to understand them at first, but as he tuned into their voices his comprehension improved. The argument hinged on whether it was the right call to hand the survivors of their group over to the Thai authorities. The blonde insisted she had no choice, and the big man chastised her, saying this was his operation and she had no authority to do what she had done.
The two Russians went a full minute without speaking, and then the man said, “I was warned you might show up. You were ordered to return to Moscow. You have no business here.”
The woman did not reply to this.
“And what the hell are you wearing? You infiltrated the Chamroon Syndicate dressed as a whore? Your father would be so proud of you.”
“Fuck you, Oleg.”
“Seriously. Your presence here has compromised—”
“Why are we talking about me? Your whole team was just wiped out, while under your command.”
“And that’s my fault? I reported what I saw, and they went in. Where were you when Vasily’s team took fire?”
“I was upstairs in the middle of the firefight.” A pause. “Where the hell were you?”
“I don’t answer to you, Sirena.”
“Da, you’re right. You answer to Lubyanka. In fact, why don’t we just call them right now?”
There was another significant pause. Court could tell the man was looking to deflect blame onto the girl, who was clearly an SVR operative herself, and one who was already in trouble with her masters.
The driver then asked, “What did you learn in there?”
The woman answered, “Nattapong Chamroon is dead in the nightclub. His brother, Kulap, is the one with Fan. He is on the move with him now. I know where they are going.”
“Where did you learn this?”
“Nattapong told me.”
“You just said he was… oh… I see. Where is Kulap taking Fan?”
Court cocked his head in the trailing vehicle when the woman called Sirena didn’t answer.
The man behind the wheel said, “Listen, Sirena. I came here for intel, and I’m going to get it!”
“Is that some sort of a threat?” she asked.
“This has been a costly evening already. I’m just suggesting you don’t make it worse.”
Court listened in as he drove, concentrating on every word to understand. He could not see the vehicle ahead of him, but on his phone he could tell they’d just turned left on Rama IX Road. Court was a minute behind them, at least, but he didn’t want or need to get any closer.
The woman replied, “I’ll talk to Lubyanka after you drop me off.”
“The hell you will.” The man said a woman’s name now, but Court couldn’t pick it up. He thought it might have been Stoya. “I can blame you and put this entire affair behind me.”
“Ha,” she said, clearly not taking him as seriously as Court took the threat. “Too bad for you Ruslan and Vasily are still alive.”
“They’ll cover for me,” Oleg said coldly.
“You’re insane,” Sirena said. “I’ll make a deal with you, though.”
“I’m listening.”
“You know how important it is to get Fan back. You also know that the minute Lubyanka finds out what happened tonight, on top of what happened in Vietnam, they will pull us out of the field.”
The man said, “Have you forgotten they did that to you already?”
The woman ignored Oleg, and Court listened to the passion in her voice. “Dammit, Oleg Petrovich! I am just asking for you to come help me now. I know where Fan is going, and we can get him. Then we can contact Moscow. Otherwise all this has been for nothing.”
Court liked the intensity of this woman, even if she worked for the wrong team. He caught himself rooting for her to win her argument.
But when Oleg did not reply, Court started to worry.
And when he saw on his GPS phone tracker that the car was pulling off the road and stopping, his concern only grew.
The woman spoke in confusion, now, but not in alarm. “Ti choto?” What the hell?
He heard a struggle, banging and grunting, and then the woman screamed. “Podozhdi! Nyet! Ne nado!” Wait! No! Don’t do it!
A gunshot cracked in Court’s earpiece, and he floored the gas pedal, racing towards the blip on his tracking app, a half mile ahead.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
Whatever had taken place inside the Audi between the two Russian spies, it was over by the time Court arrived. He pulled up behind the vehicle a minute later with his headlights off, and he stayed fifty yards back, though he wanted to drive right up to the rear bumper. But since he was unarmed, and since he didn’t know what the situation was inside the black coupe ahead, he decided he could not get any closer.
He’d heard a total of three gunshots over the speakerphone, and sounds of a brutal struggle, but in the last twenty seconds all had been perfectly silent. He wondered if both Russians had been shot, but as he peered into the dark car parked next to the sidewalk on the two-lane residential street, he saw the driver-side door open. First a pistol fell out the door, clanked on the asphalt, and lay still. Then it seemed as if the man called Oleg was going to climb out; Court saw his head and left shoulder emerge from the car, but then his entire body just tipped sideways and rolled out, and he fell headfirst on top of the gun. His lower torso was pushed or kicked until his entire body was out of the car and lying still on the street.
Court heard the woman’s voice in his earpiece now. “Mu’dak.” Asshole. And then the car door closed and the Audi raced off on squealing tires.
Court waited for the Audi’s taillights to disappear in the darkness, and then he drove on, keeping an eye on the GPS phone.
He was surprised by her voice again in his ear, just five minutes later. She’d made a phone call, obviously, but Court would have to concentrate on her half of the conversation to work out who she was speaking with.
“It’s Sirena.” A pause. “Identity code…” She said a long string of numbers, but Court couldn’t follow them, and wouldn’t remember them five seconds later, anyway. He followed the blip on his mobile app, careful to keep his speed down and his eyes on the road.
A moment later the woman said, “That doesn’t matter. I am in Bangkok, as I’m sure you will work out quickly. Anna One and Anna Eight have been taken to a hospital. All the rest… all the rest, are dead. Yes… Fantom included.”